


Camera Obscura

by Neonanonymous



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Photography
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-28 07:25:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10826556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neonanonymous/pseuds/Neonanonymous
Summary: Lardo has Jack try film photography.





	1. Loading Film

“Got all that?”

Jack looks at the few notes he scribbled down on the page. _Photons, gelatin, light, silver, developer_... The photo lab’s work-study student, Henry, had thrown a lot at him. Jack’s notes hadn’t made sense when he wrote them down, and they definitely don’t make sense now. He’s pretty sure all the chemical names are misspelled. Henry looks at him, expectant, and Jack remembers he’s been asked a question.

“Um. Yeah. Got it.”

He could do this.

Lardo said he should try it. Non-digital photography. Working with film. He’s always been interested in it, especially with its history. The evolution from _camera obscura_ to the Nikon in his bag? Mind-blowing. He just had no idea how much chemistry it took to get there. Or how to do said chemistry.

 _Photography_ , Jack reminds himself, _you can do photography_.

The work-study kid lets out a resigned sigh, like he used to care but has seen too much. He nods, tells Jack to have fun, and disappears behind a door with a sign reading “Finishing” hanging on by a piece of tape.

Jack is alone in the main room of the photolab, a place that definitely looks more like a lab than an art studio. There are two large sinks, humidifiers, huge measuring cups, smaller graduated cylinders, jugs with “CAUTION” written on the side, multicolored tongs, gloves and—jargon swims through his head, and he’s confused but a little…excited?

Notes. He took notes. He consults the scribbles and looks around for the cabinet labeled "Film and Film Holders." Jack smiles to himself when he finds it. The sharpied words aren’t neat, but they’re pretty. Lardo’s handwriting.

A deep breath. He can do this.

****

The room for loading film is tiny. There is only enough space for one table and one chair. The walls are painted black. Jack makes sure everything is laid out in the right order and locks the door like Henry said to before flicking off the lights.

It’s pitch black. Jack shouldn’t be surprised, really. The film can’t be exposed to any light, he knows that. It’s just—weird. He’s been in rooms that are dark before but never a dark room. He waves his hand in front of his face. Nothing. He keeps expecting his eyes to adjust, but there’s no light for them to adjust to.

He briefly wonders what Bitty would think.

Jack does better loading the film than he expected. Henry had warned him it may take practice, but Jack’s hands are sure. He picks up the box of unexposed 8x10 film from where he knows he left it. “It’s like one of those Russian dolls,” Henry told him earlier, “There’s a box, another box, a bag, another bag, and then the film.” Jack unpacks everything and pulls out a sheet, makes sure it’s right side up, and slides it into the film holder. He secures the plastic rectangle, making sure everything is sealed and locked so no light gets in and nothing slides out.

He’s pretty aware of where everything is, and there’s not a lot of fumbling. It’s kind of…easy, actually. Jack’s hands are big. Calloused. But he likes the feel of everything on his fingertips. Not the film, of course. He doesn’t touch that expect for the edges. But everything else is interesting. The rough cardboard of the box, the silky plastic of the bag, the hard edges of the film holder. He likes the honesty of feeling something without seeing it. It kind of reminds him of when he makes a tape to tape pass with Bitty. One he just knows is going to connect before he makes it.

It’s nice.


	2. Exposure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack takes a picture.

“Jack, where we goin’?”

Bitty’s drawl is thick. Probably because Jack knocked on his door five minutes ago and dragged him out of bed. He kind of feels bad, but this is no where near as harsh as early morning checking practice. It’s not _before_ sunrise this time, Jack tells himself, but-

“’M serious, Jack, it’s the crackadawn and I have- Oh.” Bitty stops short behind Jack, taking in the set up.

They’re outside the art building, in one of Samwell’s many courtyards. The soft, easy sunlight paints everything hazy, and the air is cool and crisp. Bitty’d thrown on a Samwell hoodie, probably because he saw Jack was just wearing a t-shirt and shorts. This early, the campus is calm but not quiet by any means. Birdsong flows from overhead trees. There’s the grit of a professor’s bike tires on the sidewalk. Fearless campus squirrels are chasing each other, chattering, their claws scraping against tree bark. And there’s the rustle of Jack organizing things. Camera things.

“Wha-” Bitty starts to say, but Jack cuts him off, pointing.

“Could you sit there? No, wait-” There’s a stool a few feet away from the camera—an actual honest-to-God old fashioned camera that has the heavy black cloth coming off the back and everything—but now Jack squints, first at the air then at Bitty. The light’s moved. He scoots the chair minutely forward.

“Here,” Jack says. Bitty moves slowly but he clambers on.

Jack disappears underneath the black cloth and starts tinkering with the camera. It’s made of wood, with a lens the size of his fist poking out the front. The lens is framed in a square of black tape because it’s removable, he was told, in case you want to use another lens that does different stuff. The tape is just a precaution to prevent light leaks, Henry had said. Although something tells Jack it would fall to the ground without the tape, but hey, whatever works. The whole unwieldy thing would fall to the ground, too, if not for the metal stand it sits on, which has handles and levers sprinkled all over it. Jack has no idea what half of these do.

What he does know is Bitty’s way out of focus.

“Uh…Jack?”

Bitty’s face is faintly projected upside-down— _Physics_ , Henry had said as if that explained anything—on a layer of glass behind the lens. No matter how blurry, Jack can still see Bitty’s sleepy bewilderment.

“Oh,” he says, standing up and allowing the black cloth to pool around his shoulders, “Can I take your picture?”

“Um?” Bitty gestures towards the massive, boxy camera.

“I didn’t explain, did I?” Jack realizes out loud.  

The light makes Bitty’s blond eyebrows look gold-spun as he arches one questioningly. _That’s good_ , Jack thinks. He wanted to capture that weird halo effect morning light has on Bitty’s hair. He first noticed it during their early practices. The way Bitty lit up with Faber’s windows behind him. Jack kind of wanted to take the picture there but the camera was heavy and he’s not sure how he would get it on the ice-

“Jack.”

“Oh. Lardo thought I would like film photography. So I’m trying it out.”

Bitty eyes the camera wearily. “Where’d you even get that thing?”

“It’s the photography professor’s,” he pats the graying wood, half giddy half reverent, “It’s about a hundred years old.”

“And they’re just…letting you use it?”

Jack shrugs. The cloth slips again. “The work-study said I could.”

Bitty throws a look heavenward and heaves a sigh. “You owe me Annie’s after this.”

“What’s the matter Bitty? I thought you’re used to being in front of a camera.”

“Jack Zimmermann! That thing could eat my vlog camera whole.” Bitty crosses his arms. “Just. Tell me how this works. Do I smile…?”

Jack explains. Right now, the lens is open. Light’s coming through to make an image on the glass. He needs to focus that image and close the lens before he even puts the film in, which takes awhile. “So yeah, that’s why people in old photos look so serious. Because it’s hard to smile for that long. I just need you to relax and be as still as possible.”

Bitty settles in. Jack goes to work with the levers, figuring out what they do, moving the entire camera up and down, sliding it slightly forward, then infinitesimally back. He frames Bitty from the shoulders up, watches as he comes into focus. His eyes pick out details on the image—fibers of Bitty’s sweatshirt, the pores of his skin, the chocolate brown of his irises. When he feels it’s right, Jack moves around to the front of the camera, making sure the aperture is on eleven and the shutter speed is an eighth of a second like Henry said before he closes the lens.

Bitty hasn’t moved, hasn’t taken his eyes off the glass lens in front of him, but Jack can feel him following his movements. Jack is usually aware of Bitty. It helps on the ice.

But now, he’s aware of Bitty’s periphery gaze on him as he eases the plastic film holder into the camera. He doesn’t want to be too rough, but the camera’s old. He has to be firm to get it settled all the way in. Once it’s secure, he slides the cover out of the film holder. This is it. Once he opens the lens, the film will be exposed. He'll have a picture of Bitty. Sleepy, bedhead, sunrise gold Bitty. Unless, of course, Jack screwed up somewhere along the way and light leaked in.

 _Only one way to find out_ , Jack thinks as he gently pulls back the trigger on the lens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I- Wow. Just wanna say thanks to everyone for the support. Was not expecting that.

**Author's Note:**

> So I, uh, have never written fanfic before?  
> I just thought Jack would like being in a dark room.  
> Let me know if there's anything I can fix.


End file.
